What We Have Created
by Melancholia That Got Away
Summary: What if Onslaught had been created from the love between Charles and Erik instead of their frustrations and pains? My completely failed attempt at a crackfic. Implied Erik/Charles.


What We Have Created

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><p>What if Onslaught had been created from the love between Charles and Erik instead of their frustrations and pains? My completely failed attempt at a crackfic.<p>

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><p>Erik Lehnsherr, more commonly known as Magneto, had never in his life thought that he would be in this position. He was utterly confused, confounded and transfixed by what was in front of him, unable to process what his mind was seeing at the moment, thinking that <em>maybe<em>, just maybe, one Charles Francis Xavier (also currently in his presence) had found a way around the helmet he hated so much. Because there was simply no way, _no way_, such a thing was possible.

A baby.

A wailing toddler of barely six months (by the looks of it, and he still remembered Anya, so his judgment should be valid), being held by none other than the great Professor X himself. A baby boy.

Apparently, somehow, their own son.

"Charles." He growled. "You had better have a good explanation for this."

The telepath pursed his lips, bouncing the baby in a desperate attempt to stop him from crying, which did not seem to be succeeding.

"I don't really know, either, Erik." He frowned. "It, uh, apparently happened when our minds were momentarily joined."

"Which one of those times?"

Oh, there were several occasions where that happened. One particular night came to mind, where he and Charles had inevitably found themselves falling unto a bed together, clothes coming of quicker than they could blink. Their passion had been raw, and beautiful in its moment, the feeling of skin upon skin had been exhilarating and so, so addicting. Unfortunately that had been a one of a kind occurrence, though the touching of their minds had happened quite a few times afterwards.

He knew Charles thought of it when his cheeks turned a bright shade of red, eyes drifting away almost shyly.

"Not exactly that time, but it might've been a start." His attempts to shush the baby suddenly got more desperate. "It was most likely a culmination of all the times our minds melded. And then when I was visiting the Astral Plane, I ripped him from me and…voila, he's here."

"So, he's what, the result of our conjoined consciousness?"

"You could say that, yes."

At an exceptionally powerful wail that burst from the child's lungs, Charles gave an exhausted, frustrated groan and pushed the baby into a vastly surprised Erik's arms.

"Why are you giving him to me?" Erik asked, trying to make Charles take the boy back.

Charles threw his hands up to the heavens. "You're his father. _Do_ something! Make him stop crying; I obviously _can't!_ I am tired of hearing him cry so much."

The telepath did certainly seem to have reached his breaking point, eyes red, shoulders sagging and a generally tired looking face. Erik frowned, bouncing the baby and humming softly. Eventually, the baby calmed much to the relief of both parents.

"It's unfair that you're so good at this." Charles commented. Erik gave him a smug smile.

"Don't be sore about it, Charles." He got a glare for that. "And? Have you decided on a name yet?"

Charles sighed for the umpteenth time. "No. I thought you'd like the honour."

Erik stared at him for quite some time before looking back down at the baby boy in his hands.

"What about Iden?"

Charles only smiled.

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><p>If there was anything in his life that Charles Xavier wouldn't have thought he'd ever hear again, it was the mind-numbing, searing cry of <em>CHARLES <em>that was suddenly and without warning launched into his brain.

In the very first instance, he thought that maybe, most probably, he had imagined whose voice that was because, quite honestly, he'd gone quite some time without hearing that voice inside his head. But then when the second –

_CHARLES!_

…Left his mind shaking, he realized that, alright, perhaps he hadn't imagined Erik's panicked cry after all. So with some amount of effort and while sporting a rather ominous headache, Charles made his way to the second floor, where he knew the master of magnetism and their miracle child were. To avoid another painfully sharp shriek from assaulting his already suffering brain, he sent Erik the message of _I'm on my way_ and hoped that it got to him. Was it too much to hope that the helmet had somehow come off? Otherwise he wouldn't have been able to hear Erik's panicked cries and thoughts, fluttering in and out from his own mind.

What awaited him on the upper floor in their son's bedroom would be forever imprinted in his retina and would surely go down in history as 'One of The Most Embarrassing Moments Magneto Had Ever Experienced.'

The aforementioned mutant was floating – yes, ladies and gentlemen, _floating_ – up in the air, his helmet right along with him, though continuously dancing out of his reach when he tried grabbing it. Other objects (mostly toy soldiers, some cars and a train) were also whirling around slowly, and all of this was seemingly orchestrated by –

"Iden!" Charles really couldn't decide between laughing at the whole situation or reprimanding his son for doing something so foolish – because when they managed to get Erik down, he'd most likely descend unto their son like an angry storm.

He settled for the latter, although he couldn't control the occasional giggles that escaped him, The Grand Magneto's glares notwithstanding. They actually made the giggling harder to stop.

The little boy of barely five years old, all wavy brown hair and greenish-blue eyes, was looking up at his floating parent with utmost awe and excitement, clearly having fun with all of this. Charles couldn't deny it, there was something rather gratifying about it, especially now that the helmet had come off and he could hear Erik again.

"Charles, do something!" the metal-bender urged him.

"And what am I supposed to do?" Erik glared at him as if he wanted him to melt and die and rot all at the same time, which was actually exactly what he was thinking and it really felt so refreshing to hear his thoughts.

But alas, the fun couldn't last forever. Charles sighed.

"Iden, son, _please_, let your father down." He thought maybe Iden could hear it in his voice that Charles was having too much fun too, because the child smiled deviously and did exactly the opposite.

Raised Erik a little higher.

"Charles!"

The telepath had a hard time not laughing, but suppressed it long enough to repeat to his son to, _let your father down_.

"Why?" the child asked, all wide eyed innocence.

"Because your father is very unhappy with this." Charles said simply. "Come on, lad, you can't keep him up there forever, he'll get dizzy and sick, and we really don't want him to get sick all over your room, now, do we?"

He wasn't sure that it actually convinced the child of anything but Iden did let Erik drop slowly to the ground, letting him thump softly on the floor. Erik leaped up quickly, dusting off his clothes (for a reason Charles really couldn't understand – the floor was clean!) and catching his helmet as it felt. Charles watched sadly as the helmet went back on, silently saying goodbye to Erik's thoughts.

"You will never do that again, young man." Erik said. Iden smiled brightly at him, going back to his toys.

Erik marched out of the room, Charles trailing behind him, trying his hardest not to laugh and laugh and laugh, which turned into little bursts of soft snorts and giggles every so many seconds, which he knew must be grating on Erik's nerves.

Once they were far enough from the room, Erik burst.

"That little…" he started. "He's an onslaught, I tell you! I should've named him that when you asked me to name him."

"Oh, Erik, don't be so dramatic." Charles shushed him. "That's hardly a proper name and we couldn't have known he'd be such a cute little troublemaker."

Erik scowled, glaring daggers into him. Charles merely gave him a grin, not at all bothered by the new onset of glares and scowls and snarls. And besides…

"At least we got one very good thing out of this." He told Erik. The metal-bender huffed, arching an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Yeah, and what's that?"

Another broad smile from Charles. "At least now we know our little Onslaught is a mutant."

Against that, Erik could definitely not find an argument.

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><p><strong>[Edit]:<strong> Changed Iden's age to 5, because it's cuter and I suppose a bit more appropriate for such mischievous things. I don't know, I'm too young to have any kids.

Iden is an Anglo-Saxon name in origin, meaning 'prosperous.' I thought I'd give him a name because the poor thing only has Onslaught as his name and that's…sad.

This happened while I was going around doing research on X-Men, because I've never read any of the comics so I only know things from what my dad has told me and what I've seen from the movies. I stumbled across Onslaught and the first thing that came to mind when I read how he'd come to be was "So, technically, he's their son?" And thus I ended up writing…this.

I imagine this to be set in the First Class Verse, though I mixed it a bit with the comics.

And yay for my very first finished X-Men fanfic! I'd never have even considered this pairing without First Class (thank you James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender).


End file.
